What Will Be
by MrStride
Summary: This is the story of Harry Potter, written years after a long, horrific war. The true story of an orphaned boy who grows up in the shadow of a wizarding world on the brink of collapse. First Person AU. HP & LL
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

* * *

I could see and feel Luna's trepidation as I stood beside her; her legs were shaking, and she was biting her lower lip. To be fair, I was nervous too. No. Scared. We were about to face our self-declared arch-nemesis: The Dead Man. A childish name, I agree. But we were mere children when we were facing him! What meager things we could perceive of him pointed us towards the direction of that name. Much later we would come to truly know what the man was. But to us, then, he was a monstrous husk. A Dead Man.

My gripped tightened on the stick as my eyes shifted up and down the laundry room door nervously. Behind the worn door was where the Dead Man was. The man had first appeared in Luna's room minutes prior as he usually would. And as usual, he lumbered out with that awkward gait of his seconds after making his presence known. When he first appeared all those months ago, we were, at first, too nervous to peruse him. But as time went on, and we grew bolder, we began to trail after him.

In the beginning, he would venture into places we dare not go. Like the headmistresses office. To go in there would assuredly result in swift discipline. Something we dare not risk no matter our curiosity. But just as the winds of the world can suddenly change, so did the Dead Mans journey. A few weeks ago, he started venturing into the laundry room. Why he suddenly changed his course, and why he chose the laundry room of all places, we were not sure. But such a change presented us with an opportunity to confront the man. Of course, if we planned accordingly, we could have confronted him months ago when he was in our rooms. But our feeble minds could not conceive of doing so. So. We trailed after him many times. Only in the last week had we devised a plan to actually confront him, and that confrontation was happening tonight.

The plan was, thinking back on it now, simple. But to us then, it was very complex. We knew the man couldn't speak, or at least, choose not to speak to us. So weren't planning on probing him for any answers to our burning questions. Instead, we were going to capture him and present him to all our doubters. Of which we had many of. Recalling these memories, I could not fault our doubters today like I did then. We had no evidence that the man existed as he left behind no unambiguous physical evidence nor did the wards register his presence. It was merely our word that he existed. And well … the word of children mentioning something quite odd would doubtless be something easily believable. So. Our plan was to cease any doubts. We were to capture the man. Hence the net in Luna's trembling hands and the stick in mine. The net was, of course, to capture the man. And the stick was to beat him until he could no longer move. We would then present him in the main hall in the morning thus ending any doubts. I laugh now imagining how we ever believed the plan would work if we were to enact it.

"I'm scared," Luna whispered beside me. I simply nodded to her. While I was scared, I would not let Luna know. She depended on my courage as much as I depended on her intelligence. I wouldn't ruin the fine balance between us.

"This will all be over soon," I assured her. "Just remember the plan. When I open the door, toss the net on him and I'll subdue him." I shook the stick at her and gave my best reassuring smile. She tried her best to give me a smile of equal reassurance, but it came out as more weary then reassuring.

I looked at her for a moment longer before I resumed my hesitant gaze at the door. Summoning all my courage that coursed through my small frame, I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I held the air within me for a moment, and during that moment I heard Luna shift nervously. Doubtless she was trying to make out what may have been strange behavior to her. I let the air ease out me as I slowly opened my eyes. My plan to summon my courage did not work. I still felt just as scared as I had before. But I believe I at least inspired Luna as she seemed to shift and stand a bit straighter.

But whatever courage she discovered seemed to slip away from her as I began to move my hand towards the doorknob. She let out a sound reminiscent of a small mouse squeak, and said, "Do we have to do this? Can't we just leave him alone?"

I let out a deep sigh. And not bothering to turn and face her, said, "Aren't you tired of everyone not believing us? Everyone making fun of us? I am. I'm not sure about you, but the last few months haven't been the greatest for me." I glared at the doorknob. "'Loony Troop' they call us like we are crazy! Well … we'll show them." I gripped the doorknob tightly, mustering all the strength I could in that one grip. "Just follow the plan, Luna."

And with my gripping of the doorknob, I set the plan in motion. Luna seemed to accept that I wasn't going to back down and shifted into position behind me. While my newfound anger fueled my strong grip, I still couldn't help imagining all the possible ways this plan could go awry. Perhaps the net would tear. Perhaps I would slip when I ran into the room. Perhaps the Dead Man would present more of challenge then we had imagine. But then all those worries were pushed aside as I recalled all the horrid things Luna and I had to endure as a result of the Dead Man. And with those memories raging through my mind, I gripped the doorknob tighter, twisted it, and pulled it open without asking Luna if she was prepared.

That may have been a foolish mistake perhaps if the Dead Man was in the room. But in the room he was not. When I opened the door, we were only presented with a dank, but empty laundry room. I stood there dumbfounded. And as I stood there stupefied, I felt the net breeze past me. Luna obviously had not realized the Dead Man was not in the room. When I looked over at her, I realized why she had not; her eyes were sealed shut. Not that I could fault her, but I felt exasperated towards her all the same.

"Luna," I began, not able to rid my voice of the annoyance I felt, "you can open your eyes; he isn't in there."

I didn't bother to wait for her to listen my request. Instead, I ventured into the laundry room. Knowing the layout of the laundry room quite intimately, I could find no place the man may be hiding. The closets were too small to fit a man of his size, and the reservoirs that held the laundry water were both secured with their respective locks. The headmistress had installed locks on them when she discovered children were using them as their own, personal hideouts. On top of having no places to hide, there was also no places he could reasonably escape from. The laundry room had one sole window, but it did not open, and it was fairly tiny. And the ventilation shafts were small. The only way to truly leave the room was through the door. Perhaps there was a secret entrance? No. If there was, I would have already known about it.

So. I was stumped. Luna seemed to echo my thoughts.

"How did he get out?" She asked, as she slipped into the room. I didn't bother to respond. I paced around the room something of which I tended to do often when I was trying to figure out a problem. But my pacing didn't draw me any closer to an answer and instead made me more agitated.

"I don't know," I said, as I ceased my pacing near the window. I looked out and into the backyard; he wasn't there. "How did he escape? I can't see any place he could have gotten out through." I paused and turned to look at Luna. "Are you sure he went in here?"

I must have had an accusatory note in my voice as she started and gave me a meager glare. "I saw him walk in here and close the door, Harry! And you know he always comes here anyways." She mumbled the last part and turned away from me. I knew I had hurt her feelings. But in my agitation, I felt no need to apologize for my rude remark.

I was going to retort with a rude remark, but before I could, I heard footsteps above us. My eyes widened at the sound and Luna's began to match my own as she turned back around. I knew that sound could only come from one person. As the room above this one belonged to the headmistress herself. Of course, writing this now, the sound could have belonged to one of the mistresses lovers. Men frequently left her room, as I child I didn't think much of it, but as an adult I realize now what these mysterious men were doing. But … I was a child then and those connections fell beside me. And so that noise filled with me dread as I could only imagine that sound was the headmistress herself.

She was coming down here to confront whomever was making the noise that awoke her. And that source was us.

I quickly closed the distance between myself and Luna and placed my lips close to her ear and whispered, "We need to go!"

Again, I didn't bother to wait for Luna to respond choosing to instead to grab her hand and pull her out of the room. If she cared about my sudden and perhaps, haphazard pulling of her, she did not voice it. Instead, she eventually matched my stride as we walked briskly down the hallway. I not chose to run. To do so may alert more people to our presence. I imagine Luna agreed with that as well as she didn't try to run either. Luckily, our rooms weren't that far from the laundry room so walking to them wasn't going to be a problem. Within moments, we were already at Luna's door.

"We will talk more of this tomorrow." I said hastily as I opened her door.

Luna went to enter her room, but she paused and turned back towards me. She was biting her lower lip. "I really did see him go into the room. I wasn't lying to you, Harry." Her foot shifted nervously. In that moment, my agitation was stolen from me and I realized just how much I had hurt Luna. I promised to myself to apologize to her tomorrow and find a way to make it up to her. For now, I simply responded with, "I know. We will talk about it tomorrow."

That seemed to comfort her as she nodded and walked into her room. She gave me a tight smile as she closed the door and I gave her a smile in return. With Luna settled, I began my lonely trek back to my own room. My pace would have remained at the same brisk pace I had set earlier if not for the sudden muffled voice from behind me. I paused as I heard it and then immediately increased my pace.

My newly increased pace allowed me to reach my room within record time. And now at it, I hastily ripped my door open and quickly closed it behind me. Darkness greeted me along with the smell of a room not cleaned for some time. I leaned my head against the door and heaved out a sigh. But I quickly froze, however, when I heard the muffled voice pass by my door. I remained as silent as I could not even daring to breath. Every sound made was a potential risk. And while it felt like an eternity to me, the voice quickly passed by and traveled down the hallway away from me within seconds.

I dare not make a sound nor breathe until well after the voice had departed me. I would have also chosen to wait longer too if my lungs weren't screaming at me. So reluctantly, I took a breath and brought sound back into my life far sooner then I had hoped too. My sound, however, did not bring back the voice. It took me sometime to regain my breath, and once I did, I set my stick against the wall and ambled my way over to my bed. I sat on it for some time before I eased my way into it. And though I willed myself to sleep, sleep did not welcome me. My mind was alight with thoughts. How had the strange man escaped? Such a question assailed my mind. I tried to think of plausible scenarios that would have explained that sudden escape. But based on what we knew of the Dead Man at the time, none of the answers I thought of made sense.

The Dead Man was dead. That much we were sure of. And based on the books we have read, deceased things had no magical ability so he couldn't have escaped by apparition. We also knew he wasn't a ghost. Ghosts don't leave behind physical traces of their presence, but yet the dead man did; he sometimes leaked weird fluids. We had tried using those weird fluids to prove the Dead Mans existence. But we were only scolded for getting something wet onto the floor and were forced to clean it up. Remembering the sticky and smelly liquids made me almost heave and I quickly banished those memories. I sighed. I was getting no where with my thoughts. I would need to discuss this with Luna tomorrow. She was smart one of our duo. She would think of an answer.

At least, I had hoped. Any knowledge Luna held, could not even scratch the surface what was truly going on. But if only we knew what the Dead Man's appearance truly meant. What he represented. What he was trying to do. Then perhaps all the people that would die in the coming weeks would not have. But would they have listened? Listened to a boy and a girl that foretold the death and destruction of thousands? The answer to that question will never be spoken. Because … who could answer it?

Anyone that could was long dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

* * *

In my haste to begin what I feel starts the more meaningful years of my life, I neglected to detail how I found myself at that orphanage. The true beginning of my story. Because, while not all that important to the story of my life I wish to tell, those years prior to the Dead Mans introduction still helped shape who I was and who I would ultimately become.

I suppose I should begin from my very first memory: The death of my parents. How tragic that the only memory of my parents is there death! But the only one of them, it shall be. I was two when they died. Murdered right in front of me as they huddled in front of my crib, backs to me. From what I understood from those memories, and information I garnered later on, they were using their bodies as a sort of shield. A shield made in love of me. Truly they loved me. Loved me enough to die for me. But I always wondered: Was my life truly worth it over their own? A boy who had just turned two that had yet to do anything for the world? I suppose I will never get the answer to that question.

But … would I even want the answer? I shook my head.

My parents were killed by a group of cultists that worshiped an upcoming dark lord whom would later plunge the world into a long, terrible war. The cultists were trying to get the dark lord to look in their direction, so they started attacking magical families—and muggle ones—to do so. That was sort of an initiation test for the man. If you had the capacity to kill blindly, you may fit into his scheme for his goals for the world. And with enough mindless killing, he may summon you to his side. Tragically, my parents paid the price for that grotesque ritual.

And I almost did as well. Because, while my parents tried to protect me, that protection failed with their death. So. Two year old me was sitting unprotected in his crib. So easy it would be to kill me! But obviously, I did not die that night. But how I lived … I do not remember. The film of that night stops with those cultists preparing to strike me. I've tried many things to retrieve that memory. But all the things I try result in failure. So, I live with that emptiness.

It gnaws at me occasionally still to this day.

The next part of my life I have scattered memories of. But I do recall being mostly in the care of Hagrid within those scattered memories. Hagrid will be a frequent recurrence in this story as he had—and always will have—a special place in my life. Hagrid was the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. But during the war, he acted as more of a ferry for children. He would come gather up orphan children and take them to designated locations. Mostly orphanages or families that were willing to take the children in. I was among the first few children he was tasked with ferrying. But unlike the other children, which he had no connection to—this isn't to say he didn't feel horrible for them, because he did—he had a connection with me. Hagrid knew my parents rather well. From the tales he told me, he was the main instigator for my parents relationship and their eventually fall into love. Of course, this could just be an old man gushing, trying to impress that boy he considered a nephew. But, I believed him.

And so, unlike the other children where he only had them for perhaps a few days, he kept me for some time. For nearly a year, he kept me to himself in that old hut of his just outside of Hogwarts proper. While I don't have many memories from that time, and what memories I do have seemed to revolve around weird, mystical creatures, I do remember being well taken care of. My belly was always full, and I was content with my lot.

Sadly, that beloved arrangement would come to a swift end once the grand wizard Dumbledore grew weary of Hagrid's fond attachment to me. From what I understood, Dumbledore didn't want Hagrid's fondness of me to be used against him. Hagrid was a pivotal member of the resistance effort. To lose him would hamper the flow of the effort. And if I were faced with plausible death, Hagrid would be willing his lay down his life for mine. While that was undoubtedly true, that being the reason for his need to release me seemed far-fetch. While I was never able to question Dumbledore for his true reason, coming to my own conclusion, I believed that Hagrid was being distracted by me. A distraction that couldn't happen considering his importance. But if Dumbledore were to frame it that way, doubtless Hagrid would not agree and fight him on it. Versus the former telling which seemed to paint our separation as a tragic necessity that must be done. And, of course, the separation was done. Because Hagrid was a man who always sacrificed for the greater good.

My next few memories are there, but hazy like a partially blind man. I remember coming up to the orphanage door in Hagrid's arms. I was crying, not wanting to leave him. I believe he was crying too as I remember feeling something wet pelt the top of my head a few times; it couldn't have been rain as it was somewhat sunny that day. He knocked on the large door before us as I nestled into his brawny chest and cried some more. Within moments the headmistress answered the door, greeted us tartly, and escorted us in. I sent a few glances her way as we walked down main hall and into the parlor room. She was young then. Perhaps barely older than thirty-five. She had luscious, long blonde hair and a very pointed nose. I remember staring at her nose for some time. My young self just found it so unlike any other I saw and that entrapped my mind. When the headmistress noticed my staring, she gave me an intimidating one back and I cowered back into Hagrid's chest.

I must have fallen asleep as I remember waking up in a bed in a strange room. My new surroundings frightened me. It was so dark! And everywhere I looked I found a lack of color. Everything was painted in an oppressing brown. I sat still for a moment as I took it all in and then I cried. I cried like I hadn't felt before. I felt so betrayed and alone in that moment. Who would have though a young child such as me could feel such things! But feel them I did. I'm not sure how long I cried for, but no one came to comfort me, and I eventually feel back asleep.

I dreamed dreams of living at Hagrid's hut that night.

Speaking of the man, Hagrid still found the time to visit me often in the early years of my stay. Though those days were more tense and bitter then happy. He would bring me a gift or two when he visited. Which as a child with little else owned to myself, I greedily took them. But such gifts did not stop me from badgering him with questions of why he abandoned me and why I had to live in such a horrible place. I also remember repeatedly telling him that I hated him, and he hated me. Because truly, if you love someone, why would you place them in such a place! My comments must have affected him deeply as he would bow his head and rub at his eyes. I didn't realize then that he was crying but reliving this now, I wish I could slap my younger self for making a man who cared for me deeply cry. It wasn't his fault that those above him forced his hand!

Those visits became fewer and fewer as I aged and as the war began to blossom. Hagrid had been taking upon himself more responsibilities outside of ferrying children. I do not fault him for his lack of visits now, but back then, I hated him for it. I also hated the fact that I missed him so desperately so. I felt as if he had abandoned me all over again! I such was an angry, hateful child in those early years at the orphanage. I hated all my peers and they seemed to equally hate me. Hagrid's visits—though I usually made him cry—were visits I looked forward to. Those days were my escape from the hate I felt for everything around me. And though I hated Hagrid, it was more of a hateful-love rather straight hate.

And so, with his visits dwindling down to perhaps a few a year, I felt more alone then ever before. More abandoned then I ever felt.

And then Luna arrived late one evening.

Luna and I wouldn't become true friends until the Dead Man incident years after first seeing her. To me, in the years prior to that incident, she was strange. Very strange. She was always constantly talking to nothing and laughing at nothing. It was such odd behavior to say the least. And then sometimes, she would attempt to introduce other children to … nothing. Of course, Luna would say something was there, but no one else could see what she saw. She was relentlessly bullied for her odd and perplexing behavior. It was during those days that she was renamed to 'loony' by most of the children at the orphanage and some of the staff. I'm not proud to admit that I also joined in adapting the name to my tongue as well. I still apologize to her to this day over it. But she just laughs it off and tells me all is forgiven.

Later on, we would come to find out why Luna could see the things she saw. But to tell it now would ruin later parts of the story. So, I will keep that tragic tidbit to myself.

But even though I called Luna names just like the other children, she still began to gravitate towards me after a while. I hadn't faintest clue as to why at the time and still don't to this day. I've asked her, but she doesn't recall why. Perhaps it was simply because she was wanting for a physical friend and I was 'nicer' than anyone else there. Perhaps it truly was because of fate as we've been told. Whatever it was, she began to trail after me. I hated that she trailed after me too. And I let her know that constantly at the expense of her feelings. But though I called her names, she still followed me like a lost dog. And soon enough, I got associated with her. People teased us as being boyfriend and girlfriend something of which I deeply resented. And I let whomever said that know as I pounded on them with my small hands. It was during those spats that I triggered my first bout of accidental magic; I broke a vase in my anger and was punished severely for it. Of course, I blamed Luna for my punishment and she profusely apologized.

I still find it funny today how she apologized for something she didn't do!

After some time, I grew accustomed to my little shadow and even began to talk to her as normal children would. We talked about whatever fancied us at the moment. I even introduced her to Hagrid though I hated him; he seemed to like her, and I imagined it made him happy to see me bonding with someone. She too would try to introduce me people important to her: Her ghostly friends. But I would have none of it and refused her offers vehemently. While I would tolerate her, I wouldn't tolerate her inane behavior. She seemed to accept this after I refused her nearly a dozen times and stopped trying to do it. Of course, the bullying only seemed to increase for me the closer the two of us became. I thought about pushing her away numerous times. But the thought of doing so after being alone without Hagrid was a difficult proposition to swallow. So. I instead endured the bullying together with Luna.

And so, our weird relationship continued on like it was for some time. While I tolerated her, and relished her attention and companionship secretly, I was too scared or perhaps too nervous to push our relationship into the friendship territory. I remained guarded around her and when ever I felt us growing close, I put an end to it swiftly. Undoubtedly this hurt her dearly. A girl so alone who only wished to have a friend that wasn't invisible to others.

Our relationship, however, would be forced to expand when the Dead Man appeared. He appeared in my room one night. I opened my eyes to a sudden noise and he was just standing there, swaying a bit, and staring at me with his empty, dark eyes of his. I was so terrified that I let out a wail and ducked beneath my covers. When the headmistress came, the man was long gone. I explained to her what I saw, but the windows showed no signs of entry nor did the wards register another presence in the orphanage. I was scolded for wasting the headmistresses time and swiftly sent back to bed.

The man showed himself again a few days later. But unlike before where I screamed, I shakily got out of my bed and tip-toed hastily down to Luna's room. I knocked on her door and whispered for her to unlock it and let me in. She eventually complied and I swiftly barraged my way in. She kept asking me what was wrong, but in my scared state I couldn't form a thought.

I spent the night in her room that night, and before anyone else had risen, I left and went back to my own. The strange man was gone.

At breakfast Luna sat beside me and asked me through mouthfuls of food what happened the night prior. I sat still for a moment. Should I tell her? I was beyond embarrassed and scared of the situation I was in. Ultimately, I decided to tell her. When I finished with my scary tale and looked over at her, she was as pale as freshly-washed white bedding. She excused herself promptly and I simply gaped at her as she left in a hurry. I felt hurt that she would leave so abruptly when I was clearly freaking out! So. I trailed after her to let her know. But before I could tell her my feelings on what she just did, she blurted out herself that the same strange man her visited her room a few times already.

And that was when our friendship cemented itself. As there is nothing else better to form a friendship over than an equal hardship.

Of course, we tried to explain to people that a weird man that was perhaps dead was roaming our rooms at night. But they simply just laughed us and bullied us relentlessly for it. That was when we were dubbed the 'loony troop'. I used to pound on the children who called us such a name. But when everyone eventually joined in, I couldn't realistically battle all of them.

Eventually the Dead Man would begin walking out of our rooms and commence that journey of his. We followed, but dared not go into places that were strictly forbidden to us. But then he changed course to the laundry room and well ... that brings us to the beginning of this story.

So, there it is. The least important years of my life laid out.

Or perhaps, the most important years of my life.


End file.
